You ever read the book Insomnia? If not, I'm not going to ruin it by making a mess of the plot here. But the reason I bring it up is that I am becoming the main character. I go to bed, I sleep, I wake up 47 times to trot to the bathroom, fall back asleep each time, and then at 4 or 5 in the morning wake up for no apparent reason, unable to go back to sleep.
Or do anything, really, except make grand plans about all the stuff! I will get done today! And the wonderful breakfast! I will cook for James! I had bacon, eggs, coffee, lunch, toast all made by the time James got out of the shower this morning around 6:30. I'd also washed the dishes from last night and this morning and sorted and started the laundry, taken out most of the recycling, and made two trips to the car with baby crap (Hi, neighbors! I'm wearing ugly pajamas and no bra, and you can totally see my giant white belly hanging out of my shirt from across Lake Michigan! My apologies, since the brightness probably woke you all up!). I was seriously contemplating cleaning the kitchen floor, too, but I decided to eat my breakfast instead.
After James left, I sorted all the junk that's been accumulating on the dining room table, folded the laundry, started another load, and took out the rest of the recycling.
Then I sat on the couch and instantly fell asleep for almost three hours. See, it's not so bad on days I can nap whenever I feel like it. But I've been doing this on days I can't nap (example: this entire weekend), and it's killing me. If I'd gone into labor yesterday afternoon, I'm not sure I would have made it. I was so exhausted already.
We will know there are problems when I start seeing colored balloons hovering over people's heads. And creepy little men running after them.
Also, on Saturday there was a baby shower. And lo, my child was richly blessed with all manner of adorable clothing and bath items and books and more clothing and toys and oh, more clothing. One lady even bought me a huge Toblerone bar, which made me love her eternally. I've been savoring it slowly and beating James off it with sticks.
Well, I've never had so much fun doing laundry in my life. The tiny dresses! The little socks! The hats! They are so small! Even if I have ten babies, I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that new human beings, they arrive with feet the size of James's thumbs. And my mom and mom-in-law got a Baby Bjorn, which was just an idle fancy of mine. I didn't actually expect or even hope that someone would buy one for us.
And then I came home and relived the shower by forcing James to watch as I pulled all the stuff out of bags and emitted high-pitched squeals until his ears bled. He was richly compensated with leftover shower food.
The church lady who put it together asked me what foods I was into lately, and I told her "Potatoes. Empty carbs. But potatoes, mostly. And more potatoes." I was just trying to be funny, but she decided that a baked potato bar would be the best idea, and it was. Oh, it was. And the desserts! One lady made a blueberry cheesecake from scratch. I had two pieces for breakfast on Sunday morning.
I think the baby gained twelve pounds on Saturday, and I gained a whole new appreciation for Tums.
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